


The Competitive Edge

by Quillaninc



Series: Drabble/Ficlets by Request [13]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-27
Updated: 2010-07-27
Packaged: 2017-10-10 20:05:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/103762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quillaninc/pseuds/Quillaninc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ficlet/Drabble Prompt: GW, 6x1 cuz they need more luv - that competition, that ability for dark smexyness</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Competitive Edge

**Author's Note:**

> I hesitate to say 6x1 - it's more 6 vs 1, really. Hints of 2+5, if you look sideways.

Their weekly encounters started out simply enough.

"I hear you impressed my sister with your fencing skills, once," Zechs addressed the man lounging dispassionately against the door frame.

Heero watched his fellow Preventer take a highly practiced lunge, foil stabbing with deadly accuracy at an invisible foe. His eye was cool and distant as it raked over the white clad figure. "No offence, but your sister's easily impressed," he tossed out icily.

"None taken. And, unlike Relena, I- " Zechs lunged again, foil quivering in the still evening air, then slid a challenging look in Heero's direction, "- am not," he finished smoothly.

Heero grunted, then levered himself away from the doorframe and sauntered over to the open weapons case. Without commenting, he selected a blade, tested it with a few practice swishes, then replaced it and carefully chose and tested another. Finally satisfied, he withdrew a mask, vest and gloves.

His opponent did likewise, although both knew full well that it was more out of respect for Preventer regulations than fear for themselves. Neither considered their thinly veiled hostility worth losing their jobs over.

Tension vibrant between them, they faced each other with a sharp salute of their blades. Then, with flashing foils, the contest began.

* * *

"Do you think they'll ever figure it out?"

Wufei glanced over his shoulder and snorted at Maxwell. "After four months of this? I doubt it," he grumbled.

Duo grinned and propped himself against the doorframe with an extended arm. He had deliberately chosen the spot right behind Wufei, who had leant there minutes before with arms crossed while watching the fierce contest being waged in the next room.

"Shame," Duo tsked. "Those two together would be really _hot_!" He shook his head in feigned sorrow. "All that pent-up sexual tension, just going to waste."

Wufei rolled his eyes and snorted again. "Only you, Maxwell, would actually say something like that!"

Duo dipped his head a little closer, just enough that only Wufei would hear him. "And only you, Chang, would stand here week after week like you do, then have a go at me for saying exactly what you were thinking anyway," he murmured provokingly.

Dark eyes narrowed and lips pressed together in a thin line, warning signs Duo noticed just a little too late as a sharp elbow flashed backwards and caught him smartly in the ribs, making him hiss.

* * *

Tempestuous dark blue locked in dogged determination with hard sapphire through their visors as Heero parried a vicious stroke, his rapier flashing forward in swift retaliation.

It wasn't so much that neither was aware of the attention they habitually garnered, than that neither particularly cared. Each had only one focus: total conquest, total domination over the other.

Merquise was far more agile for his size than Heero had given him credit for, and it was starting to become annoying. Sweat trickled down the back of his shirt and under his visor, a minor irritation he added to yet another in the perceived score he held against his damnable opponent.

After months and months of this deadlocked combat - would the man never simply _concede_? It heated his blood and made his nerves zing with a vibrancy that was unfamiliar and therefore disconcerting.

Then Zechs lashed forward with enough force that Heero was compelled backwards or lose his position altogether, and all thought dissipated. He could see the former Oz officer smirk through the fine mesh of his mask, and his own lip curled in a snarl as he countered Zechs' blade with an equally savage attack.

In the silence of the room, the air, their blades, their very selves thrummed with the coiled tension that lay unanswered between them.

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by [](http://trowacko.livejournal.com/profile)[**trowacko**](http://trowacko.livejournal.com/)


End file.
